


Day for Night

by Dorian



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-07
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-21 20:06:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorian/pseuds/Dorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is starting to be a bit of a theme in his life: fantastic scenery, but almost entirely lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day for Night

They're somewhere in northern Wales but the signs all have a persistent lack of vowels, blurring together. It's half seven in the morning and Bradley just doesn't _care_.

A massive backdrop of white mountains looms in the distance, which Colin films half-heartedly, without commentary. Bradley has an urge to film Colin just like this, but he doesn't have his camera. And it's a little...what's that Italian film, about making a movie. Or maybe French.

He asks Colin, who looks unimpressed. "Still not psychic, you know."

"Some help you are."

Lighting is being set up. Someone drops a very expensive bulb.

 

 

The room is all bare beige walls, badly lit, with rows of plastic chairs. They read lines, scripts in their laps, turning the pages but past the need to really look.

A fluorescent bulb starts flickering, which is annoying. He finally breaks the scene to glare at it. Colin snorts and takes a drink, head tipped back, throat working as he swallows.

Bradley does his best Narrating Voice: "The glamorous life."

"A little success going to your head, then?"

"That's me. A prima donna. Next I'll be demanding skittles with all the purple ones picked out."

"Good luck with that."

 

 

They're somewhere in France. This is starting to be a bit of a theme in his life: fantastic scenery, but almost entirely lost. It's windy and someone from make-up is going to have to fix their hair. Colin's looks like a hay stack. He mentions this, though in some ways it's an improvement--Merlin's haircut makes Colin's ears stand out. He might also mention this. In the spirit of being helpful.

"Sod off."

Colin's ears take some getting used to.

A two-lane road curves through the valley. There's a smokestack in the distance but otherwise it's all very twelfth-century pastoral.

 

 

Colin is reading, sitting in the shade of the courtyard because he's tired of being told off. Assistants are mustering extras, checking for wristwatches and stray anachronisms. There is going to be another beheading, but it's a nice day and the mood on set is chipper.

They do two of Tony's _off with his head_ shots. Arthur loiters about in the frame looking serious. Below, the crowd practices gasping.

Later he flops down next to Colin, who has his feet rebelliously in the sun.

"Hello."

Colin nudges at him in a way that means _yeah fine hello now be quiet_.

 

 

He knocks on Colin's door, bored. He has nearly a week of night-shooting coming up and Colin, the lucky bastard, has only three scenes. Five-thirty is bad enough without switching back and forth.

You can get used to a lot as a steady habit.

He throws himself down next to Colin in front of the telly, steals the remote, finding info-commercials and French soaps.

"What _is_ the lesser evil here?" He muses on this, half an eye on flipping stations, and half an eye on Colin, who has a beer propped on his knee, fingers loosely wrapped around the neck.

 

 

They're shooting Friday tomorrow and Tuesday next week because of some cock-up with a location. He films Colin reading his script, slumped on a bar-stool by the kitchen that is _in theory_ a step up from a bedroom-only suite but he never uses it. They're here for... nine days? He explains all this for those people curious about _kitchens Bradley James has never used_.

"Don't think that's making the cut."

"Quiet." He zooms in on the back of Colin's neck. "You have horrible posture, mate."

He points the camera at the floor and touches the bare skin of Colin's neck.

 

 

The lights are hot, the room stifling and he's wearing leather. Make-up keeps having to powder and blot. Gareth and Maggie are working out a snag, so the three-fifteen break gets moved up to two-thirty with the union's blessing.

There's a great deal of Pierrefonds they never use for filming. He follows Colin up to a room with a checkerboard floor and arched windows looking out towards a golf course. He leans against the wall. Colin reaches over, touching Bradley's face, fingers spread.

"All right?"

Colin is professional and fairly determined not to screw this opportunity up. Bradley trusts that.

 

 

They are in a giant forest of oaks, really massive trees. Everyone is cranky, which on Colin is a tight sort of reserve that's sullen around the edges. Merlin trips and falls, the camera perched over him while Colin does one of his _it's a horrible monster!_ faces that, like a lot of things Colin does, is really quite good.

Arthur hoists Merlin up under the arms and they heroically run away. There's _cut!_ and then everyone does it all over again.

Colin's palms get a little scraped up, so Bradley pins him to the bed by his wrists instead.

 

 

They're in a tiny village famous for goat cheese. Bradley is unimpressed.

"If you've seen _one_ small dirty French village..."

Colin seems a little preoccupied and just smiles in response. Smiles _politely_.

Bradley bides his time and then grabs Colin's arm, backing him against the wall where the twisty streets take a sharp turn.

"Everything all right, yeah?"

Colin looks puzzled and then kisses him lightly and then says, "Happens not everything is about you."

Well, it's a good thing Colin never gives off mixed signals. "That's a lie." He steps back. "I'm the exact center of the known universe."

 

 

It's late. The room is dark, the shade drawn behind the curtains. One long diagonal of light fans across the ceiling.

"You don't have to always stay, you know."

He snorts because it's such a Colin-esque way of going about things. "I'm not bothered."

"All right then."

He shoves Colin a little. "Come off it."

"I said all right."

"Besides," Bradley remarks, "A bit of snogging in the morning never hurt anyone." Because it's god's honest truth, because it'll make Colin huff out a laugh.

"That's what I like about you, Bradley." Colin's voice is very dry. "You're all heart."

**Author's Note:**

> Many many thanks to my amazing betas, bewarethesmirk and p_zeitgeist, who helped me a great deal with this.


End file.
